It was late and quiet outside, but inside, everything felt right.

You were curled up next to Rafe in his bed, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows as his warm, bare chest rose steadily beneath your head.

You’d never needed constant touch, until him. His arm rested around your waist, fingers brushing your skin like he was making sure you were still there, still safe.

You traced the lines of his skin, relaxed by the rhythm of his breath. His hand moved to your hair, slow and soothing, a quiet reassurance.

“You okay?” he whispered, voice low and warm.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t want to move.” The silence between you was full, not empty, comforting, not awkward.

He hummed, sliding his hand down your back, a gentle promise in his touch.

You weren’t used to feeling safe, but in his arms, it felt like something you could get used to, something you never wanted to lose.